


Insatiable

by Abelina



Series: Bethyl Smut Week Prompts - January 2016 [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bethyl Smut Week, F/M, Pregnancy, Public Sex, Sex on Furniture, Sex on a Car, Tree Sex, bethyl, lots of sex really, prompt, sex on top of things, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abelina/pseuds/Abelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He sometimes wonders how he ever thought he could keep up to her. She’s an animal. A goddess. An insatiable thirst all wrapped up in an adorable blonde package.</i>
</p><p>Based on a prompt for Bethyl Smut Week on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> _Anonymous said:_  
>  I have this thing for Bethyl smut up against a tree. Such a huge fantasy for some reason. But up against anything would work... a desk, a dresser... me. Haha

He sometimes wonders how he ever thought he could keep up to her. She’s an animal. A goddess. An insatiable thirst all wrapped up in an adorable blonde package. There’s never time and there’s never space but she finds them both. Finds them and puts them to good use.

Drags him away from the camp, coaxes him with searing kisses and a deft little hand stroking him to hardness in his jeans, teases him until he lifts her up against a tree and fucks her into it. That’s her plan all along and she revels in it, in the scrape of the bark against her ass, in the dirty wet sounds of his cock as he plunges into her. She screams her pleasure into the woods and doesn’t care if she’s heard. Yanks at his hair and squeezes her muscles like a vice as she comes, until he groans hot into her neck and explodes inside. Too late to pull out and too thoroughly fucked to care.

There was a desk, one time, an old metal thing like a teacher might have, in behind a cubicle wall in a half-wrecked building. With a toss of her head she leads him back there, and he knows what he’s in for but he goes anyway. Goes willingly, because she might be the insatiable one but he sure as hell loves trying to sate her, and he’s already hard before she ever gets a hand on him. Everyone’s asleep on the floor on the other side of the partition. Anyone could wake up, walk around. Anyone could see. If they aren’t asleep they can sure as hell _hear_. The squeak of the metal, the rumble of the feet pushing against the floor. The hard slap of skin and that same wet plunge of his cock as she lies over the desk, face down, while he thrusts into her from behind. He’s full of grumbles and grunts and breathy _Beth_ s all pressed into the back of her neck, and she’s full of him, full of arching backs and scratching nails and delightful of moans the fake wood veneer does nothing to hide.

“Inside. Inside,” she begs.

And he does, with a roar, filling her up because she wants it. Because being reckless when they’re already being reckless makes her come so hard. She bites down on his arm and only half muffles her screams, and later the marks of her teeth turn to dark purple bruises. Because she’s the insatiable one, and he’s too thoroughly fucked to care.

In the back of the little house there are two bedrooms, and she drags him into one before anyone else can lay claim to it. Locks the door and tosses her clothing away before pulling at his. And it’s been so long since they’ve been completely naked he just has to enjoy it, and she might be insatiable but she’s not opposed to foreplay, not opposed at all, and the bed is disgusting but the dresser’s the perfect height, some old antique thing with a fancy wood-framed mirror, and he buries his face in her sopping wet cunt and makes her howl. Makes her thrust herself against his face so hard the mirror behind her rattles. And when she’s come all over his face, and when he’s kissing her after and she’s lapping at the taste of herself on his lips, he finds the dresser’s the perfect height for _this_ , too, and thrusts into her so hard the whole dresser bashes into the wall. And there’s a pounding from the other side, voices shouting at them to keep it down, but Beth only laughs as he pounds into her, as she braces her hands behind her on the old wood and thrusts right back. When she comes she leaves a crack in the glass, tossing her head back so hard that he almost stops.

“No,” she breathes. “No. Don’t ever stop.”

He doesn’t, and when the dresser collapses beneath them as he comes, he curls her into his arms and they laugh until they fall asleep, right there in a pile of rubble. Because she’s insatiable, and he likes her that way.

There’s a wall. There’s a number of walls, actually. Stone. Brick. Concrete. Stucco. Beth laughs that she’s left a bit of skin behind on every wall in Georgia.

There’s the hood of a Trans Am, and that one takes him a minute, because it makes him think of sleazy men and girls who don’t know better, but Beth just wants him—wants him _here_ and wants him _now_ —and he ain’t no sleazy man and she definitely knows better, and he’ll be damned if she don’t look good, spread out over the hood like his own fiery bird.

Sometimes they find a bed. On a night when Beth’s so tired she can barely stay awake but she still wants him, he carries her to it and lies her down on the sheets, musty but clean and softer than any sheets he ever knew. And it’s slow and tender and not at all what she usually craves, but she whispers to him after, when they’re wrapped up in each other beneath a warm old quilt, that it’s exactly what she wanted.

There’s a rocking chair, the day the figure it out. The day they put two and two together and come up with _baby_. It shouldn’t be a surprise—any sense of careful left their heads so very long ago—but it is, and they aren’t sure how to feel or what to think. But he loves her, she loves him, and she sits on his lap with his cock inside and her head tucked up at his shoulder, and they rock together until their worries melt away in a puddle of bliss.

There’s a lot more of _everything_ , once she’s not so tired anymore. Once she’s eating again. No surface is safe, from the likes of Beth Greene, and because she’s insatiable, he’s not safe, either.

They’re all packed into the back of a truck, lying out like little rows of sardines. He’s got his back to the wall and she’s got her back to Maggie’s, and Maggie and Glenn are quietly fucking in their sleeping bag and he knows what’s coming next. Because if Beth’s insatiable, then pregnant Beth is doubly so, and if Maggie can do it, if Maggie is _actively_ doing it inches from where Beth’s lying, Beth’s going to do it too. She’s only wearing panties anyway, her jeans—too tight to sleep in—are balled beneath her head for a pillow. Hitches her leg up over his hip and unbuckles his belt. Opens his jeans and pulls out his cock, strokes him until he’s hard, until he bucks into her hand. And the angle’s weird, her little belly’s in the way and he can’t get very deep, and she’s so hot and so wet all he wants to do is bury himself to the hilt. But she’s getting something from this anyway, these short little thrusts of barely half his cock, and she clutches at his arm hard enough to bruise and moans into his chest loud enough that everyone’ll hear, and comes so suddenly he can’t help but follow.

Because she’s insatiable, and he’s beginning to think he might be, too.


End file.
